Puppet Strings
by purplepie1
Summary: Part 3 of The Teddy Bears' Picnic Series. Just as he's getting his life back on track, the death of an E Corp executive brings more grief for Tyrell. When he starts to grow suspicious of the circumstances around his parents' death, will he uncover yet more lies? As his world begins to unravel again, it's up to Joanna and Elliot to help him, before it's too late.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** **Welcome to the third story in the series! This one is very Tyrell-centric again, and I'm afraid it's another angsty one. Things will get better for him soon, I promise! ;-)**

'Do you miss Sweden?' Elliot asked him one afternoon as they sat on the sofa lazily watching TV.

'No,' came the immediate reply, and Elliot looked at him in surprise.

'What I mean is I miss the food, and the lifestyle. And it's a certainly a beautiful country. But I don't miss it in the sense that I have any real desire to go back. There's nothing there for me anymore. It doesn't feel like home to me.' He said this simply, and without any hint of sadness.

'So you don't see yourself ever moving back?'

'No, my home is here now.' They both smiled at the implication of his words.

'What about you Elliot? Do you see yourself leaving New York?'

'Nah, I mean I don't see why I would. I'm happy here. I've never been very adventurous, or had much of an urge to travel or see more of the world. I like knowing where I am, and having familiar things close by…' he trailed off, feeling embarrassed. Surely someone as cultured as Tyrell would think him small-minded and simple for feeling this way. Instead, Tyrell just smiled and said, 'I can understand that. I think I've grown to want that too.'

Tyrell really did just want that. In the last few months he'd felt so happy with Elliot. They complemented each other, and spent most of their time together. He'd all but moved in with him, and though he knew Elliot had been self-conscious about his less-than-glamorous apartment, to Tyrell it was perfect.

He couldn't bring himself to spend time in the house he'd shared with Joanna, and in many ways he quite liked living somewhere more humble. He'd been surrounded by luxury and opulence for so long, and it was an unpleasant reminder of the life he'd been forced into. It conjured up memories of the pretence and the lies, the push he'd always felt to earn more and be better. His life had been about nothing more than competition and flash over substance. He was always trying to one-up someone else, and, as Scott Knowles had pointed out, he'd always fallen short, no matter how hard he tried. There was such falseness to it, and the glossy veneer he'd painted over his own life felt meaningless now as he watched it peel away at the edges.

No, he was far happier at Elliot's. The place was basic, sure, but it felt so much more lived-in than his house had ever done. It was humble and reminded him of where he came from.

Eventually he would probably sell his old house, and perhaps they would buy somewhere bigger together, but now was hardly the time. The economic climate hadn't really created a great market for grand Chelsea townhouses, or good-feeling towards those who owned them for that matter. Now was not a time for ostentation, but rather a time for modesty. Tyrell found that liberating.

It was the first time in many years that Tyrell could truly call himself happy. And not happy in a basic sense, happy in an all-consuming sort of contentment that made him smile for no reason and hum to himself without realising. He'd not felt this way since he and Joanna had been newlyweds. The early days of their relationship had been turbulent and he'd still been reeling from the loss of his parents. But she'd helped him through that, and by the time he'd gotten down on one knee and asked her to marry him, he'd felt like he could see a happy future for himself.

When he'd signed his marriage licence he knew his happy future had arrived. They were starting a life together, and he'd felt indestructible. By now they were living in America, and he had a promising career at one of the largest companies in the world. For a year or so things were almost perfect.

It didn't take him long to get sucked into the corporate world, but the higher up the ladder he climbed, the emptier he felt. By this point, Joanna had started to pull back too, and was growing more distant, so he'd begun his transformation into a cold, unfeeling corporate robot. He'd pretended to like that about himself, and it hadn't been until he met Elliot that he realised he really didn't. When they'd executed the hack, he'd not only liberated the world, but himself too.

Finding out he'd been a puppet for a vast, unseen power had been another blow that had knocked him sideways, but recently he'd started to feel like he was coming out the other side. Again, he felt like he'd been granted his freedom, and for the first time in his life could truly be who he wanted to be.

Smiling, he moved off the sofa and made his way towards the kitchen.

'What would you like for lunch?' he asked Elliot, but got no reply.

'Elliot?' he tried again.

'He killed himself!' Elliot exclaimed.

'What? Who did?' Tyrell made his way quickly over to Elliot, who gestured vaguely at the TV.

Yesterday, John Masters, an executive at E Corp's London office, had been interviewed by the business editor of BBC News for a special report about the current climate, and what the future held for both big business, and the general public alike.

Halfway through an answer to a particularly tough question he'd stopped and looked directly at the camera. He'd started to apologise for all the wrong in the world, the mistakes he'd made, and to all the people he'd stepped on, on his way to the top. The video had gone viral within minutes. Elliot had watched it- it made for pretty strange viewing- but Tyrell hadn't wanted to. E Corp was a sensitive subject for him, and a world he quite frankly wanted to leave behind.

Now though, as news broke that John Masters had hanged himself later that day, Tyrell sat transfixed, unable to take his eyes off the photo of the man they were showing at the top right-hand corner of the screen.

'Weird, right?' he could hear Elliot say to his left, but he couldn't think up a response.

He was too consumed with his own thoughts as they rushed through his mind, and the cold, clammy feelings of nausea that spread through him.

'Tyrell?' Elliot touched his arm. Tyrell leaped up, as if Elliot's hand was burning him.

'Tyrell, what's wrong? I thought you didn't know him.'

He didn't. Or at least he didn't know John Masters. But the face that stared back at him from the TV screen was someone else entirely, and he knew that person.

He didn't know how it was possible, but he knew he was right, without a shadow of a doubt.

There was no way he'd forget the face of the man who'd killed his parents.


	2. Chapter 2

'Tyrell, you're freaking me out. What's wrong?'

Tyrell stumbled back, seemingly in a daze. He tripped, and fumbled with his hands on the arm of the sofa as he tried to regain his balance. His breath came in short, sharp gasps, and Elliot could see that he was shaking.

'Sit down, talk to me. What's going on?'

Tyrell just shook his head and whispered, 'No, it's not possible,' as he made his way over to the front door on wobbly legs.

'Tyrell, wait! Where are you going?'

'Elliot, I'm sorry, I have to go. Please, just let me go…'

'I can't do that Tyrell, not when you're like this. Please…'

'Elliot, no!' He put his hands out as Elliot came towards him. Elliot stopped, a safe distance away, not wanting to spook him any more than he already was.

Tyrell mumbled something Elliot couldn't decipher, and then louder, 'Please don't follow me.'

Before Elliot could react, Tyrell had left.

'Shit!' Elliot ran after him, but Tyrell was too quick. He got outside just in time to see Tyrell's car pull away. 'Shit!' he shouted again. He was fairly sure Tyrell was in no fit state to be driving. Doing the only thing he could think to do he pulled out his phone and called Joanna.

'Joanna, it's Elliot.'

'Elliot, hi!' he could hear she was smiling. In a weird turn of events that Elliot could never have foreseen, he'd grown fairly friendly with Tyrell's ex-wife. He saw her when she dropped off Otto, and though it had been awkward at first, he'd go as far as calling her a friend now. It wasn't as if they socialised, but they certainly got on well enough. All in all, their situation was comfortable.

'Joanna, I'm worried about Tyrell. Does the name John Masters mean anything to you?'

'The E Corp exec who just killed himself? No, why?'

'Tyrell saw the news report just now, and completely freaked out. He left, and I have no idea where he's gone.'

'Elliot, I'm sorry, I have no idea. Do you want me to help you look for him?'

'Yes! No, I don't know. I'm sorry, I don't think…'

'Elliot, don't worry, he'll be fine,' Elliot would have believed her if she hadn't sounded so worried herself.

'I think you should stay at home. He might come to you.'

'Okay. I can try calling him as well.'

'Okay, thanks. I'm going to try looking for him. He might have gone to your old house, I'll start there.'

He hung up and hailed a cab. A few minutes into the journey he got a text from Joanna.

'His phone's off, will keep trying. I'm sure he's ok x'

The drive to Tyrell's house was slow, and Elliot drummed his fingers against the window anxiously as they sat in traffic.

Eventually they arrived, and Elliot's heart sank as he saw that Tyrell's car wasn't there. Nevertheless he let himself in with his spare key, and ran around the house, frantically calling Tyrell's name. There was no sign he'd been there at all, until Elliot reached the bedroom. A box sat on top of the bed, its contents strewn everywhere. There were Swedish newspaper articles, and a couple of old day-planners, as well as some other miscellaneous personal affects. He rifled through the pages of a few of the books, but everything was in Swedish. A few photos fell out of one of the diaries, a kind-looking couple with a small boy, taken in various places. Pictures from Tyrell's childhood?

Elliot studied the boy. He had fair hair, much blonder than Tyrell's was now, but the big blue eyes left Elliot fairly certain that this was Tyrell. He let himself study the photo for a few more seconds, before carefully placing it back within the pages of the book. He felt like he was invading; Tyrell's childhood wasn't something he talked about, and Elliot never asked about his parents as he knew it was a difficult subject for him to talk about.

He pulled his hair in frustration. Tyrell wasn't here, and there was nothing that pointed to where he might have gone.

He did a final check through the house, before going outside to hail another cab. He gave the driver Joanna's address and tried to calm his fluttering heart.

A few minutes later his phone rang and he saw it was Joanna.

'Joanna, I'm on my way to yours now, so I'll see…'

'Elliot, Tyrell's with me, he arrived a few minutes ago.'

'Oh thank God!' Elliot breathed with relief. 'Tell him I'll be there in a few minutes...'

'Elliot, I don't think that's a good idea.'

He felt the blood drain from his face.

'Why not? Is he okay? Joanna, what's happened?'

'He's not hurt, but he's not… well, he's not okay Elliot. He's talking to me though, and I think I can get him to tell me what's going on. Please, trust me on this.'

Elliot felt tears sting his eyes and he nodded numbly. 'Okay,' he whispered eventually, when he remembered that Joanna wouldn't be able to see him.

'I will keep you updated, I promise,' she said kindly, but it did little to reassure him. He felt a stab of hurt and betrayal, before chastising himself. His feelings didn't matter right now. He understood that Tyrell had lived a complicated life before him, one that Joanna had been very much a part of. There were some things about Tyrell that Joanna knew that Elliot didn't, and it made sense that Tyrell would go to her still. Knowing this didn't do much to quell his jealousy, or his feelings of desperate helplessness as he realised that there was nothing else he could do at this point.

Defeated, he told the driver there had been a change of plan, and gave him his address instead. He would just have to be patient.

When Elliot had first called her, Joanna felt panic swell inside her. This behaviour was unlike Tyrell now, and she knew it must have been something pretty big to get him to leave Elliot like that and go missing without any explanation.

She'd cuddled Otto close to her and paced anxiously as she tried to phone Tyrell, growing increasingly concerned as it rang out each time. Frustrated, she'd tried to settle on the sofa, but couldn't stop fidgeting anxiously. The baby had started to stir, so she'd put him back in his crib, not wanting to disturb him more than she'd done already.

After what could only have been about twenty minutes, but felt like hours, she heard a frantic knocking on the door.

Her heart jumped into her throat as she answered the door to a dishevelled-looking Tyrell.

He was pale, and his messy hair had fallen into his eyes, as if he'd been running his fingers through it.

'Tyrell! Elliot called, he's worried sick. What's happened?'

He swayed on the spot, and she reached out to guide him into the house.

Inside, she pulled him into a hug which he didn't reciprocate, his arms hanging limply by his sides.

She looked into his eyes again and saw that he looked dazed and lost.

'Tyrell, why have you come here?' she nudged him gently. 'What do you need?'

His eyes sharpened, and he looked like he was regaining his senses. He blinked at her like he was confused as to why she was there.

'Tyrell, you came to me, what do you need?' she tried again.

'Does the name John Masters mean anything to you?'

'No, it doesn't, I'm sorry, but…'

'Are you sure Joanna?'

'Yes, I'm sure. Why are you asking?'

He took in a deep breath, as if afraid to say the words out loud.

'I don't think my parents' death was an accident.'


	3. Chapter 3

It was snowing the night a lorry-driver had lost control of his vehicle and swerved onto the wrong side of the road. He'd slammed down onto his brakes, but it was no use. Within seconds he'd crashed into the side of an oncoming car, sending it skidding down into the ditch below.

The driver had sustained head injuries and been taken to the nearby hospital. The drivers of the other car had been pronounced dead at the scene.

That was all the information the police officers gave Tyrell, before telling him they were sorry for his loss. Other arrangements needed to be made, they said, but that could all wait for another day. One of the officers, a kind-looking woman, started talking about bereavement counselling, but Tyrell wasn't listening- as far as he was concerned, the world had faded to black around him, and he only cared about one thing. He wanted to see the man who'd killed his parents.

He expected to have to hack into the hospital system, but in actual fact it was surprisingly easy to find who he was looking for. All it took was some carefully vague lies, told to the right people (he was surprised he had the presence of mind to manage that part of his plan), and plenty of tears- that part he didn't have to act. Crying was pretty much all he felt capable of doing now.

The nurse he approached was nearing the end of a fourteen-hour shift. Exhausted at the end of a difficult day, she hadn't had the heart, or energy to say no to the distraught teenager. He was too incoherent to give her all the details, but from what he told her she was able to work out that his uncle was the lorry driver who'd just been brought in. Despite knowing it went against hospital procedure, and that she was risking her job, she quietly took him to the right room, and stayed outside to watch him.

Once inside, Tyrell discovered the man's name was Johan Svensson. Looking at him, he was surprised by how he felt. Instead of rage, his entire body throbbed with the dull ache of grief. Silently he watched the man sleep, as he fought to keep his emotions under control.

Eventually he grew frustrated that the man didn't wake up. He wanted to confront him, ask him how the fuck he could be so careless. Looking back now, he had no idea what he actually would have said to him. In all honesty he probably would have fled. He'd been so determined to see him, but he hadn't really thought much beyond that point.

After a while spent crying as he listened to the beeping of the man's heart monitor and watched the steady rise and fall of his chest, he got up to leave. He felt defeated, weak, and like he'd been hollowed out. He wasn't sure what he'd gotten out of this experience, but it certainly wasn't closure.

He didn't get any closure either, when he found out two days later that the man had died.

'Tyrell, what are you saying?' Joanna's voice snapped him back into the present.

'John Masters, the E Corp executive who killed himself- he's Johan Svensson. I don't know how, but I'm sure… I'll never forget…'

'Tyrell,' Joanna began gently, 'that's not possible. Svensson died, you told me that.'

'I know, but you know what they're capable of, anything's possible! Maybe they…'

'Tyrell,' she cut in, more firmly this time. 'Do you realise what you're saying? You only saw the man once, lying bloodied and bruised in a hospital bed, you told me that. How can you possibly know for sure?'

'Do you think I'll ever forget that face? Not a day has gone by when I haven't thought about it.'

'It was an accident. A tragic, awful accident, but that's it. You can't be so paranoid, it's not healthy,' she said, trying to keep her voice as even and soothing as possible.

'I understand part of you wants closure, or maybe even a reason for what happened. Maybe you think that will help you come to terms with it, but…'

'How can you possibly say I'm being paranoid, after everything that's happened?! Everything in my life was planned and orchestrated, why not this?'

'But why Tyrell, why would they do that?'

'I thought you'd believe me, I thought you'd understand, I thought you'd believe me…' he'd lost focus on her by this point, shaking his end and continuing to mumble to himself. She stepped forward, reaching out to him as if he were a wounded animal.

'No!' he shouted, putting his hands out to stop her and stepping back in a quick, angry motion. 'Don't touch me!'

'Tyrell, please, I'm sorry,' she could feel a lump in her throat, and tears filling her eyes. She hated to see him like this.

'Promise me you didn't have anything to do with this, promise me. I know I'm right, but I have to know that you weren't involved.' He looked seconds away from breaking down completely and she just wanted to get him calmed down.

'I promise,' she blurted. 'I promise you. But Tyrell, listen to me…' she looked into his wide, bloodshot eyes, '…never in my years of working with Price was this EVER mentioned. My father never spoke about anything like this being part of the plan, and I know of NOTHING that would suggest you're correct. I'm telling you the absolute truth, you have to trust me.'

He looked at her, considering her words. Slowly his breathing seemed to calm and his tears stopped. She smiled at him reassuringly, and momentarily he seemed alright.

She was about to say something when he abruptly turned on his heel. She was so caught off guard by his sudden movement that she didn't have time to react to his hand reaching out for the door handle. Before she'd had the chance to even think, he was out the door, slamming it behind him.

'Shit!' she swore loudly, quickly getting out her phone and dialling Elliot.

'He's gone again,' she blurted, without preamble. 'I couldn't follow him, I have Otto. I'm so sorry Elliot!'

Elliot was frightened by the panic in her voice. He needed answers, and he needed them now.

'Joanna, what the fuck is going on?'

'I don't know, he wasn't making any sense!'

'Then tell me what he was saying, maybe I'll understand.'

Joanna weighed her options in her head, before concluding that Elliot needed to understand what the situation was.

'He believes his parents were murdered by Evil Corp. He believes it was part of how they manipulated him, I think.'

Shit.

'Why?'

'He thinks the executive who just died was the man who killed them.'

'How is that possible?'

'I don't think it is. But then again they've proved that they're capable of a lot of things, so I don't know.'

'You think he could be right?'

'I don't know. I thought he was crazy at first, and I have no knowledge of anything that proves him right – I stressed that to him Elliot- but he seems so sure. I don't know what to think.'

Elliot took in a shaking breath and prayed Tyrell was somehow wrong. After everything that had happened this would destroy him, Elliot felt sure.

'Joanna, what do we do now?'

'I think I have an idea.'


	4. Chapter 4

After leaving Joanna's Tyrell realised he had no real plan. He'd hoped his talk with her would go better, felt sure she'd believe him. He swore loudly as he hit the steering wheel.

He pulled over on a quiet side road a safe distance from Joanna's house, and got out his phone. A quick Google search of Johan Svensson gleaned the same results it always did- a very basic Myspace page, and records that indicated his date of birth and the fact he was single. Not that strange for an older man back in 2001.

A new search for John Masters pulled up all the current news headlines, some older articles, an extensive LinkedIn profile, and a Facebook page with full privacy settings. Nothing caught his eye, though he was interested in exploring the Facebook page. That would have to wait until he had his laptop though.

He struggled to calm his breathing, and fight the waves of nausea that rolled through him. Looking at his phone he could see missed calls and voicemails from Elliot and Joanna. He couldn't care about that now.

He jumped as his phone started ringing in his hand. He was about to ignore it when he noticed it was an unfamiliar number. Throwing caution to the wind, he answered.

'Oh dear, Tyrell, what are we going to do with you?'

He recognised the silky voice and condescending tone immediately. Phillip Price. His heart picked up, and he felt blood pounding in his ears.

Of course the CEO of E Corp had been the first person he'd wanted to speak to, but he hadn't been naïve enough to think he could just wander into his old office and get a meeting with him. It wasn't like he could just walk through the front door, and besides, he had never had that kind of sway, even when he worked there. So how the fuck was he on the phone to him now?

It took all his composure to muster what he hoped was a calm-sounding, 'Mr Price, why are you calling me?'

'Your wife informs me you've gotten yourself a bit upset. I would like to meet, see if there isn't perhaps something we could do to cheer you up. How does that sound?' he asked with faux-kindness in his voice.

Tyrell's mind raced. Joanna had called Phillip? He didn't realise she still had any contact with him, let alone influence. Though, he supposed bitterly, Phillip probably wouldn't want to miss out on an opportunity to toy with him some more. He probably saw this as a bit of fun, something to brighten up a dull Tuesday afternoon. Tyrell was beyond caring about his pride by this stage; if meeting Phillip could give him any sort of clues he didn't give a shit how far he'd have to lower himself.

'Yes, let's meet. I want answers,' he replied in short, sharp breaths.

He listened numbly as Phillip gave him an address, but already had a feeling he knew where he was going.

A few minutes into the drive, he realised he actually had no idea where the warehouse was. As the SatNav took him through unfamiliar neighbourhoods it struck him how little he must have been paying attention on the journey there before.

His hunch had been right though- eventually, the old abandoned warehouse came into sight. He felt his stomach clench as he remembered the last time he was there.

Getting out of his car, he made his way over to the main door and knocked, as Phillip had instructed him. He was let in by a man in a suit, and led down the all-too familiar hallway to a different door than the one he was taken through before.

He found himself in a make-shift kitchen, and blinked as he took in the bizarre sight before him.

'Tyrell!' Phillip greeted him cheerfully. 'Would you like a sandwich?'

Phillip was slicing off a loaf of bread and making himself a deli-meat and cheese sandwich.

'I shouldn't be eating this, doctor's orders, but life's too short to deprive yourself of the things you enjoy. Isn't that right?'

Tyrell just stared at him, fists clenched at his sides to keep himself from lashing out.

'Oh you want to get straight to business. Fair enough I suppose.' He sounded disappointed, and Tyrell fought the urge to spit in his face.

'So what's troubling you Tyrell? Your wife didn't go into too much detail I'm afraid.'

Knowing full well Phillip knew what this was about but just wanted to make Tyrell say it, he gritted his teeth and said, 'E Corp killed my parents, didn't they?'

A loud, bubbling laugh erupted from deep in older man's stomach. Wiping his eyes, finally he replied, 'Dear boy, you always had such a vivid imagination. What makes you think that?'

'It was John Masters. I don't know how, but I know it was,' Tyrell said determinedly.

Phillip's face grew serious. 'John Masters was a dear friend, and valued colleague. I won't have you speak ill of him like that.'

'Don't lie to me!' Tyrell roared, feeling a small sense of satisfaction when he noticed Phillip flinch slightly. 'You know I can't do anything with this information, I just want to know the truth. I deserve that much.'

'I agree, you do, which is why I'm giving it to you,' Phillip said simply. 'I know how your parents died, of course. A tragic accident, and a terrible loss,' he shook his head. 'But we were in no way responsible.'

Tyrell punched the wall angrily. 'I know it was him! I recognised him the moment I saw him. You can't expect me to forget the face of the man who killed my parents!'

'No, but I can expect your memory to distort the face of a man you saw once, when you were in the throes of grief. Sometimes sorrow does funny things to the mind. You're remembering what you want to remember and it's only natural to want closure. But I'm afraid I can't give it to you, and I'm declaring this conversation over.'

Before Tyrell could react, he felt an arm on his shoulder, pulling him backwards.

As he was being dragged away he heard Phillip sigh, 'It's a shame you didn't want a sandwich, this really is rather good.'

Once he'd been taken back to his car he felt the overwhelming urge to get as far away from the warehouse as possible, and he sped away, not caring which direction he was driving in.

With only the quiet hum of the engine washing over him, he replayed the conversation over and over in his mind until an awful thought struck him.

He pulled over hurriedly, feeling grateful his stomach waited until he got out of the car to empty its contents.

As he wretched violently, Phillip's words echoed in his mind. '…I can expect your memory to distort the face of a man you saw once, when you were in the throes of grief…'

Perhaps he was being paranoid, or perhaps Phillip had made a simple assumption, but the fact of the matter was he hadn't mentioned anything about when or how many times he'd seen the man who'd killed his parents.


	5. Chapter 5

A few minutes later the vomiting ceased, but he continued to brace himself against the lamppost for support, his breath coming raggedly, and tears rolling down his cheeks.

'Sir, are you alright?' he heard a voice to his right. He ignored it and staggered back to his car feeling dazed. He reached into the glove box for a packet of antibacterial wipes, and cleaned his hands and face.

His vision swam and his fingertips tingled. His senses felt deadened and slow, as if he were underwater.

He wanted answers, but it was becoming increasingly clear he wasn't going to get them. Worse still, the idea of having his fears confirmed filled him with a cold dread that clung to his insides and left him breathless.

He wished he'd never seen the news report, that he could have gone his entire life without ever knowing of John Masters' existence. He was happier not knowing what he did now. Of all the awful truths he'd learned about his own life, this was by far the worst.

It made sense, he realised now. Even with Joanna whispering in his ear, E Corp still had no guarantee that he would do what they wanted. He might not have left Sweden. His parents might have convinced him not to take the paths E Corp wanted to lead him down. They needed Joanna's opinion to be the only one he cared about, and with his parents in the picture that simply wouldn't have been the case.

Phillip had told him that fear made people obedient. Perhaps grief did too.

The thought of telling Elliot about all of this made him want to cry. Regardless of whether Elliot believed him or not, Tyrell couldn't bear the thought of seeing his big, wide eyes full of pity and sympathy.

The air in the car suddenly felt suffocating, and he gasped, feeling claustrophobic in the small space. He could see no end to the pain he was feeling, no outcome that would make him feel better.

In a moment of desperation he sent three text messages.

To Phillip Price: 'Meet me back at the warehouse. One final conversation, and then you never have to see me again. You have my word.'

To Joanna and Elliot he sent identical messages. They were inadequate and didn't even begin to sum up what he wanted to say, but they were all he could manage:

'I'm sorry.'

He drove faster than he should have done back to the warehouse. Pulling up sharply, he jumped out of the car and sprinted to the main entrance.

He hammered frantically on the door, but there didn't seem to be anyone around. He screamed in frustration, his voice echoing in the quiet night air.

He'd only sent the message a few minutes ago, he reasoned. He just needed to be patient. Vowing to wait all night if he had to, he went back to his car and tried to make himself comfortable.

Elliot pounded on Joanna's door, not caring how much of a disturbance he was causing. His muscles burned from over-exertion, black spots danced in front of his eyes, and his lungs felt as if a tight rubber band had been stretched around them.

The door swung open and Joanna looked like she felt how Elliot did. She ushered him in quickly and wasted no time in showing Elliot her phone.

Elliot nodded, feeling sick, and said, 'I got the same message.'

Joanna closed her eyes. 'I don't like this Elliot, I have a terrible feeling.'

Elliot started to cry. 'Me too. I know he's capable of hurting himself. The last time…' He stopped himself as Joanna's eyes snapped up at him in shock. Of course she didn't know about that, why would Tyrell have told her? He swallowed down his guilt though, it was irrelevant now.

She was crying now too. 'I didn't believe Tyrell, but what if he was right? I was certain Phillip would put his mind at rest, and Tyrell would be able to move on. But what if I was wrong about everything?'

Elliot couldn't imagine. He knew Tyrell had never fully recovered from his parents' death. But to learn that they were murdered, all so Tyrell could be used as a pawn in some sick game? Elliot didn't know how anyone would be able to come to terms with something like that. It was unthinkable. Tyrell had barely gotten over everything else Phillip Price had told him before, and now… Elliot was sure this would break him. He'd once thought he couldn't despise Evil Corp any more than he already did, but here he was, proven wrong yet again.

From what he knew of Phillip Price, he was fairly sure he wouldn't have told Tyrell the truth delicately. He'd have toyed with him, drawn pleasure from his pain, and watched him hungrily as he fell apart. Elliot had never felt such anger before.

'Why did I let you convince me this was a good idea?' he shouted.

'Because I genuinely believed Tyrell was wrong. I thought he'd hear it from the horse's mouth, and everything would be resolved. You can't think I wanted this to happen?!'

'I don't know, Joanna,' Elliot lowered his voice dangerously. 'I'm not exactly sure I can trust you about this anymore, given your history.'

She recoiled as if he'd struck her. 'How can you say that?'

'Promise me, I need you to _promise_ me, that you don't know more than you're letting on. That you're not still in on all of this, and this isn't part of some bigger game you're playing.'

'Elliot I promise,' she was grateful that she managed to sound much bolder than she felt. 'I have been honest with Tyrell about everything I know. When I agreed to their plan I was assured that no-one would be killed. If I'd been told they were going to _murder_ his parents, I would never have gone ahead. What kind of person do you think I am?'

'The kind of person who manipulates someone who loves them, and tricks them into a life of lies and deceit?'

The sound of Joanna's hand making contact with the side of Elliot's face cracked through the silence, and Elliot flinched, startled.

As his cheek started to burn, Joanna hissed, 'Don't you dare judge me! I will never forgive myself for what I did, but I had reasons. I hated myself every single time I looked into his eyes, every single morning I woke up next to him. I certainly didn't do this for my own entertainment. Sometimes life pushes you down paths you don't want to take Elliot, I would have thought you'd understand that.'

The stood in silence, locked in the intensity of each other's gazes, their chests rising and falling heavily.

'I, um…' Elliot faltered, but thankfully Joanna cut him off.

'This is all irrelevant right now, we need to find Tyrell. Have you tried to call him?'

'Yes, of course, non-stop since I got his message. I left him voicemails too.'

'Do you have any idea where he might be?'

'No, not a clue,' Elliot choked out in despair. 'Do you know where Phillip would have taken Tyrell to talk?'

'Possibly the warehouse, but I don't know where it is.'

Elliot stared at her. 'How is that possible?'

'We were never given the address, and we were taken in vans so we couldn't see where we were going.'

'They didn't care about us seeing though.'

'That's probably because that was the last time we planned to use it, so it didn't really matter. With us they figured the less we knew, the less dangerous we could be. It kept us where they wanted us. So, do you know where it is?' she asked urgently.

Elliot thought about it for a second before realising with a sinking heart that he didn't. Shit.

'No, I don't remember.' The neighbourhoods had all been unfamiliar, and he'd been too concerned with focusing on Tyrell to pay attention to street signs. He kicked himself now.

'Fuck!' Joanna swore loudly.

'I mean, I might be able to figure it out, but that could take ages. They probably won't still be there anyway.'

'Well we have to do something, and that seems like a good place to start. As we can't get hold of Tyrell I'm going to try calling Phillip, you get to work.'


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Warning, this chapter is a bit darker, and deals with suicidal thoughts.**

Tyrell cried silently as he listened to Elliot's voicemail for the third time.

'Tyrell, it's Elliot. I know what's happened, and whether you're right or not, I can't begin to imagine what you're feeling. But I want to help you, please let me help you. I know you don't think you're strong enough to get through this, but whatever the outcome, I know that you are. You got through all the shit that happened before, and you started to build a life that made you happy. That doesn't have to all go away. You still have me Tyrell, and you still have your son. Please don't do anything rash, please just call me back, and we'll talk. I'll help you. Please, I love you. Please. Please…' he trailed off at the end.

Hearing Elliot's voice somehow calmed him down, and his finger hovered over the call button. He wanted to believe Elliot, he wanted to call him, and have everything make a little bit more sense again. But something was holding him back.

His internal struggle was interrupted when he saw headlights approaching him. A car pulled up, and he saw Phillip get out of the passenger side. The older man strode over purposefully and tapped on the window. 'You have ten minutes,' he told Tyrell firmly.

Tyrell scrambled out the car and followed Phillip into the warehouse. This time, he was led back into the main room. It looked very different without all the flowers and candles, bare and industrial. It reminded Tyrell of a slaughterhouse.

'Speak,' Phillip commanded.

Tyrell quickly found his voice and managed to say, more confidently than he felt, 'I know I'm right. Too many things make sense. What's the point in lying to me? I can't do anything with this information. All you'd be doing is giving me peace of mind. Don't you owe me that much?'

Phillip sighed. Tyrell braced himself for what he was about to say.

'You were never meant to find out.'

The breath Tyrell had been holding forced its way out of him in the form of a sob, which echoed round the vast, empty room.

Seeing the devastation in the young man's face, Phillip allowed himself a rare moment of compassion. He continued.

'Joanna didn't know. Very few people did. We had people involved, obviously, but no-one you would know. John was chosen, assigned a fake identity, and put into position. Once he'd done his job, we faked his death and he returned to London. You were so vital to our plan Tyrell, we needed to make sure nothing would hold you back. It was the ultimate sacrifice you never even knew you made. Please know that we are eternally grateful for your service.'

Tyrell choked out another sob, squeezing his eyes shut and covering his mouth with his hands.

'I'll admit, it was risky letting you see John after the accident, but it was a calculated risk we were willing to take. We needed you to have closure- we couldn't have you running around, driving yourself mad chasing after ghosts.'

'Please stop talking!' Tyrell cried, his voice raw and harsh with emotion. 'I can't hear any more.'

Shaking, he reached into his jacket pocket and closed his fingers around the cold, solid weight he'd been carrying around all day. It still felt greasy from its time in the popcorn machine, and he tightened his grip on it.

He brought his hand out in one quick motion and pointed the gun directly at Phillip.

Phillip slowly put his hands in the air, and made eye contact with Tyrell. He could see that the younger man was shaking violently, and had to keep readjusting his grip on the pistol.

'Tyrell, what are you doing?' he asked calmly, and evenly.

'You like poetry, don't you?' Tyrell stammered. Phillip searched his face, trying to understand his meaning.

'I thought this would be a good way to end our story. Poetic, isn't it? Almost Shakespearean. I thought you'd like that.'

'Tyrell, you can walk away from this right now, and carry on with your life. Don't make a decision you'll regret. You don't want to kill me.'

Tyrell barked out a wet, humourless laugh.

'Of course not. I want you to kill me.'

Phillip thought he'd misheard.

'I'm sorry?'

Tyrell turned the gun round in his hands and pointed the grip at Phillip.

'Take it,' he whispered.

'Tyrell, I'm not going to kill you.'

'Take it!' he roared, as his tears spilled over. He took a deep breath to try and stop his shaking.

'I don't understand why you're asking this of me.'

By now, Tyrell's teeth were chattering and he struggled to get his words out.

'It's simple. I don't want to live, and I want you to have my blood on your hands. For the rest of your life I want you to relive the moment you watched me die.'

'Tyrell…'

'Do it! Take the gun!' he shouted desperately, and Phillip moved forwards and took it from his grasp.

Tyrell let out a shaky breath.

'Now do it.' He locked eyes with Phillip.

His breath caught in his throat as he heard the click of the safety, and he clenched his fists. He was determined not to break eye contact.

'I'm sorry Tyrell,' he heard.

And then the world went black.


End file.
